


How Different Would it Be had Lady Macbeth Laughed?

by technicallywritingdreamer



Category: SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Author took literary reading and made it odder, F/M, So guess who read Macbeth in class?, This is kinda poetry?, mention of past murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 03:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10208597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicallywritingdreamer/pseuds/technicallywritingdreamer
Summary: Rather than the simple woman broken by guilt characterization, what if Lady Macbeth actually had more to her? A possible look at what she didn't say in her "Out damned spot" speech.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't given up on my Overwatch series, but Midterms are brutal. Break is coming up soon so I may have more time to write AND upload. In the meantime, I have a Shakespeare course and we were comparing different interpretations of Lady Macbeth. They all involved sobbing and regret, but I was over in my corner wondering how cool it would be to have evil villain laughter for the speech? A Lady Macbeth having been possessed by "unsexing" suffering from simultaneous triumph and desolation, and the conflict between the two are what drive her to insanity. More daydreaming evolved into whatever this is.
> 
> Original Shakespeare lines _italicized_
> 
> Cross-posted on tumblr

_Yes, here’s a spot_  
a ruby ring crowning my finger.  


_Out, damned spot! Out I say!_  
a ring is nothing compared to a crown.  


_One, two, why, then, ‘tis time to do’t_  
and do’t as many times as it takes  


_Hell is murky_  
but I may navigate it with my candle  


_Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeared?_  
too soft, my love, but I shall take care of us  


_What need we fear?_  
I am that which should be feared  


_Who knows it when none can call our power to account?_  
Now trust me, darling, I’ll see us through  


_Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?_  
That rich flood is now ours  


_The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now?_  
You acted on your own, my sweet, far crueler than before  


_What, will these hands ne’er be clean?_  
When will these nuances cease  


_No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that_  
Stop looking at me with pity  


_You mar all with this starting_  
Aborted gestures lay between us, from your guilt or is’t mine?  


_Here’s the smell of the blood still_  
The finest fragrance a queen can wear  


_All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand_  
It is of savory, Scottish stock  


_Oh, oh, oh!_  
Look, sir, they have caught too little far too late  


_Wash your hands, put on your nightgown, look not so pale_  
We have flush enough to paint your cheeks  


_I tell you again, Banquo’s buried; he cannot come out on’s grave_  
Why then is his name the one you cry out each night  


_To bed, to bed_  
Mine and mine alone  


_There’s knocking at the gate_  
Let’s have these moments to ourselves  


_Come, come, come, come, give me your hand_  
Stop reaching for a ghost  


_What’s done cannot be undone_  
Duncan has been done  


_To bed, to bed, to bed_  
Dear husband, here and after together will we lie.


End file.
